A Thousand Years Ago in the Land of Ooo
by sakriethephoenix
Summary: Travel back in time to when Simon and Marcy were just starting out! Who was that pink goo that gave Simon the chicken soup? Where does Princess Bubblegum come in, and what was her relationship with Marceline? This series gives insight to the beginning years of Marceline the Vampire Queen, as well as the Ice King and the mysterious Princess Bubblegum.
1. Chapter 1

She could not remember how long she had been stuck there to the side of the building, but the sentient goo knew it had been many years. The blob had formulated a method to keep her boredom and loneliness at bay; for hours upon hours, she recited formulas. Any formulas. From physics to calculus to even Freudian and Gestalt, she loved remembering formulas, theories, equations, running through them until she had dissected the meaning of each. Then, as the years passed and the formulas and theories had lost their mystery, she began reciting them in many different languages. How the sentient goo knew any language at all being as she had a mouth but no vocal chords was a mystery even the intelligent being had not deciphered. From what society these languages came from was also a mystery. The other sentient goo around her did not communicate through words but vibrations and spent most of their time in their own minds. They barely registered extraneous stimulation at all. The only other sentient beings she had contact with over the many years were brain dead acidic beasts whose only motivation was the devouring of flesh. They slumped through the decrepit city oozing and moaning, and never stimulating the curiosity impulses in the goo's impulse riddled mind.

There was a time before, the goo remembered, when she was not goo at all but a tall, lanky girl of a decade and a half who spent most her time in a wonderful place the goo remembered being called the University Library. Or with a man, dark haired with glasses, named "Professor." The Professor was a kindly man with a fatherly smile and had taken in the young girl as a protégé during her years as "student," the only word the sentient goo could think of to associate with herself. But the Professor was gone, and what reason was there to continue reevaluating broken, painful memories?

The goo's eyes, hardly ever registering the world outside her mind, noticed movement in the alley way. The moaning monstrosities had gathered into a frenzy, leaking and sliding down the city streets towards what the goo almost accurately guessed. The monsters had not tasted live flesh for several years. This swarm could only mean one thing: there was something alive running around the city.

Excitement coursed through the goo's impulses. Something had survived this mess, this horrific apocalyptic war! The goo had feared all life had been extinguished once the war had left her city's streets as she had not seen even animals in at least a year. Suddenly, the pink blob was thrown into confusion. The neighboring sentient goo, whom she had long thought had lost communication skills of all kind, was vibrating all at once. Vibrations carried longer distances than sound, so she felt the thoughts of goo from miles away to the ones directly next to her to all the ones in between.

_Sick…_she heard. _Need chicken soup, _the urgent cry went out. _Help_, the other beings called to their neighbors. She felt her boundaries start stretching and pulling which indicated that the others like her were moving and trying to find the items they needed. The goo, knowing the beings were many miles away from the direction of the original vibrations, was happy nonetheless. Even if she could not see the unknown creatures, she would try her best to help them! Slowly and painfully, the sentient goo moved for the first time in a long time as she slid down the side of the building in search of chicken soup.

She felt the vibrations of the swarming monsters head back towards her direction. She dreaded what this meant; could the creatures have already devoured the precious being that needed chicken soup? But, no, suddenly a long haired man and a small girl child ran down her alley with the monsters close on their heels. The man shoved the girl into a rusted car, and faced off against the monsters. His face a mask of determination he began to sing a song that echoed familiarly in the sentient goo's memories. With a determined sweep, the man placed a shining thing on his head and transformed into a powerful wizard. One after another the monsters fell to crushing waves of snow and ice. Over and over, she felt something solid passing through the goo around her. The man swept off the magical crown, tossing it to the snow in front of him with disgust. The sentient blob grabbed the chicken soup and spoon, which had travelled miles over the sticky pink sea to her, and dripped it down her body right next to the white haired man. Startled, the man saw her, looked into her melting face and gingerly pulled the soup from her gooey flesh.

She watched with subliminal happiness as the man fed the soup to the girl and held the child. She felt alive for the first time in almost a decade, but her chest ached. When the two gathered their things and turned to leave, the sentient being instinctively knew she could not live another day as she had been living. Their backs were to her; they had already turned from her alley.

The goo stretched and stretched, yearning for them to wait for her. Too many years had she spent alone and bereft. She needed them to stay. And if they wouldn't stay then she would follow. Inch by inch the goo spread out to her limits. Every inch of her protested and sinews snapped, but she kept pulling away from herself. She began to sweat into the snowy ground the wizard had left behind; if she had vocal chords she would have been screaming in agony. But life as it had been was agony of a different kind.

Determination, her own iron will sharpened for years on hard discipline, something pushed her on. She did not know what she was doing, felt as if she might be killing herself, but the goo pushed on. Suddenly, like a babe from the womb or, more accurately, a butterfly from a cocoon, she snapped free from her sinuous bindings and tumbled out from the snow to the hard ground of the city's concrete sidewalk. The collision bruised her delicate pink limbs, but she hardly noticed. She had limbs!

She explored herself then with her fingers. Anatomy diagrams flashed through her head, and she ticked off things in her mind. A working olfactory system complete with ethmoid bone and nasal septum, buccal cavity, post-pubescent development of glandular tissue in the breast, fibromuscular elastic tubular tract, urethral opening, patella; despite the organic compounds and make up of her newly birthed body maintaining the physical and chemical properties of the pink goo, she was a fully developed human woman! But the priority on her list, the number one thing she hoped for…

"Making your way in the world today takes everything you got," she sang in a pure, sweet voice. Startled, she clasped her newly formed fingers across her mouth. Her shock subsided, and she could not contain her smile a moment longer. Her hands dropped to the cement, and she threw her head back,

"Taking a break from all your worries should would help a lot! Wouldn't you like to get away? Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name! You want to be where everybody knows your name. You wanna go… where everybody… knows your name…"

Exhausted because of the exercise of her freshly formed vocal chords but laughing all the same, she fell back, and her gooey hair flew back and landed in the snow.

"Ach, mein glub!" she whispered to herself. She stared at the starry sky above her and judged how long her "birth" had taken. Several hours had passed giving the man and the girl plenty a head start. The new woman was sure they would not be travelling at night, but that still put them a couple of hours ahead of her. Then she noticed shifting in the snow. The monsters had responded to her voice and reanimated but were struggling against the thick, icy powder. Silently lifting herself, she tested her shaking, coltish legs. Her knees knocked and she fell several times, but eventually she learned to walk, if not confidently, effectively.

Her bare feet padded silently down the concrete street in the direction she had seen the two travel as she searched for tracks. She walked until she came to an intersection. Across from her was a clothing store with the windows broken and the mannequins dismembered and leaning on each other like a diseased forest. Light glinted to her left, and turning, she saw icy footsteps reflecting starlight leading out of the city. Looking at herself and comparing it to the memory of the man and girl, she knew she must conform to their standards of modesty. She headed towards the broken clothing store.

Inside, she silently explored the aisles. A monster stood stationary and moaning as it listened hard for the sound of prey. As quietly as possible, she pulled on jeans tight to her calf and a purple sweatshirt and sneakers. She found a heavy iron rod lying on the ground and decided she could make use of it. She was mostly over the shattered window pane when disaster struck.

The metal rod had slipped a few inches and knocked some glass from the frame. The sound of shattering glass was slight and rang beautifully in the night air, but to starved monsters straining against themselves for such a sound it was like a thunder clap. Dread filled her heart as she heard the monsters awaken and the groaning get louder as they excitedly pursued new prey.

The woman hopped to the street and sprinted in the direction the two had traveled towards the outskirts of the city. The iron bar would help, she knew, but she feared the monstrosities' acidic green secretions would destroy even the heavy weapon she held. They were surprisingly quick beings, and before long, her weak legs were failing and the beasts were gaining. She tried dodging them in a side alley, but she made the wrong choice. It was a dead end. A tear fell from her eye as all her new found hope was extinguished. How could she find new meaning in her existence only for it to end here, alone, on a dull night, surrounded by toxic beasts? She could calculate no escape and could only square her shoulders and plant her feet as the monsters approached their trapped prey.


	2. Chapter 2

Sweat beaded off her brow and fell into her eyes, stinging her newly formed corneas. The woman merely shrugged her shoulders as if such a thing was a minor nuisance. And, in comparison, it was. Alone in the middle of the night with nothing but the laughing faces of twinkling stars and the impassive concrete of the buildings on either side of her to witness her death, the woman stood with her feet planted and her arms shaking as they held a large iron bar out before her in defense. Her gooey pink hair fell to her shoulders, and her normally pastel pink flesh was flushed magenta almost matching the hue of her purple sweater. Her sock-less feet sweated inside her black sneakers, and the uncomfortable sensation only heightened her anxiety.

She stood at the end of an alleyway cornered by oozing monsters dripping highly acidic green goo from their many holey orifices. The woman had watched the beasts use that acid to paralyze their prey with pain before they devoured and then infected them. In her mind's eye, she envisioned how the multiple infected bites hollowed out to giant gaping wounds. The first few hours of infection were the worst as the skin of the infected grew greenish and the wound's crying blood transitioned to weeping acidic puss. The woman compared this type of "birth" to her own birth a few hours before. Though hers had been painful as well, she much preferred the outcome of hers.

The monsters, knowing their prey was trapped, slowed their running pace to a menacing stalk. They fanned out to instinctively block all ways of escape, filling the holes in their defense with sheer numbers. The woman looked around the alleyway for any chance of escape. She looked desperately at the approaching monsters to the huge crumbling cement walls caging her on either side to the brick building that ended the alley. It seemed hopeless. But, suddenly, objects in the scene around her began to stand out as if her brain had chosen them as pieces to fit into a rather difficult puzzle. A few feet behind the first row of monsters was a rusted and partially broken ladder that led up to the top of the concrete building. Next to her was debris and an old, dented garbage container. The second monster to the left in the second row had an exaggerated limp and a crooked leg. If she timed it perfectly, she could take advantage of the monster's weakness.

The woman switched the iron bar to one hand, and then grabbed the garbage can in the other. Using as much strength as she could muster in her newborn biceps, she drug the can out in front of her. The monsters instinctively reacted to her upsurge in activity, and began to rush her. The woman barely had time to kick the heavy container into the first row of monsters before they swarmed her.

With the first row out of the way, she looped the iron bar under the broken legged monster's good leg and pulled, throwing the beast off balance. It struggled to remain upright, but the woman did not waste time. With a mighty surge of power, the woman delivered an unexpectedly intense roundhouse kick to the monster's chest that sent it flying into the main crowd of monsters. The woman swung her pink hair from her face and quickly evaluated the progression of her plan.

The weak monster stalled more of the main crowd of monsters than she had dared hope. Only two monsters had been separated from the main group and stood between the ladder and herself. Building up momentum, she ran at the two monsters and before the first beast fell to the ground, the second one had already been smashed into the concrete wall by her heavy iron bar.

The path to the ladder had opened up now. She barely spared her weapon a glance when she tossed it to the side and scrambled sporadically up the broken ladder. She knew without looking that her bar was being eaten up by the monster's acidic secretions and thus was useless. As it was, she was struggling to climb the ladder and would not have been able to carry her iron bar even if it was perfectly sound. Despite this, her plan had worked perfectly even though she was left weaponless.

After she had scrambled over the edge of the roof, the woman turned to look down at the chaos she had caused. The monsters had reorganized themselves but still stumbled around in confusion. Only a few looked at the ladder she had quickly ascended, and only one attempted, and failed, to climb it. She knew if she lingered they would eventually spread out around the building and unconsciously block her escape, but her limbs were shaking from exhaustion. Her pink hair was gummed up around her face and was making her eyes itch, and her tight legged jeans were sticking uncomfortably to her skin. If she was to take advantage of the opportunity she had catalyzed, she needed a moment to regain her strength.

The woman ungracefully slumped against the roof access door of the building, but her legs could not hold her weight. She fell to her bottom, bruising her tailbone in the process. However, she was too exhausted to cry out; she merely winced. She then pulled the string from her sweatshirt and used it to tie back her infuriatingly haggard hair. Afterwards, she simply hung her head between her knees and wished for a glass of water.

She was startled awake by the ringing sound of metal slapping against concrete. The sound continued several times before she could move. Panic seared through her chest, and the woman scrambled over to the edge of the building to make sure she had not squandered her hard won advantage. Thankfully, most of the monsters were still milling about in confusion in the alley. The sound she had heard she contributed to the monster laying gracelessly with limbs flung outward and moaning in pain. The creature had tried to climb the ladder unsuccessfully.

Satisfied that she had been asleep for only a moment, she began to walk the perimeter of the roof to scope out a possible path. Night had fully descended, but the bright moon allowed her to easily see all around her. She felt restful and hopeful and only a little bit dehydrated. Her memory easily recalled a perfect image of the man and child she was pursuing. They would have camped next to a water source, as they had obviously lost their supplies while fleeing from the zombie like creatures. Then she remembered the icy footsteps she had noticed earlier leading out of the city.

Panicking again as she feared she had lost the trail during her frantic escape, she began searching for the telltale glint of light. Then she saw what she was looking for to the south of her: glittering footsteps sparkling like stars on the concrete sidewalk. She began to plot the fastest and safest rout to the trail. There was a brick building in between her and the street the footsteps traveled down. There was a five foot gap and a ten foot drop between the buildings, and she anticipated a sixty-five percent chance of injury if she attempted the jump. Her only other options were back down the ladder, which would be suicide, or travelling in the opposite direction she needed across more closely and safely placed buildings and then circling back around to the trail. The sky was already lightening to a navy blue, and the safer rout would take hours giving the man and child more of a head start than ever. The icy trail would melt as soon as the sun rose, making time an essential factor.

Sighing in resignation, the woman shrugged her shoulders and took an athletic stance towards the leap she had to make. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind of any thought but success and began to run. One sneaker after another slapped the concrete roof, slowly at first but faster and faster. Her legs extended to their limits; she felt her muscles and joints stretching and contracting as her legs carried her across the roof. Then, she was at the edge, and she was going too fast to stop. Suddenly, she was flying through the air, and time stopped for her as she floated across the star studded sky. In that brief moment that seemed to last a lifetime, she thought of all the years she had spent essentially stuck in the prison of her own body. A smile began to spread across her lips.

Then she landed. Her ankle twisted as it clipped the edge of the building, and she was sent spiraling through the air. Her shoulder hit the ground first, and her breath exploded out of her, leaving her breathless. She saw alternately the sky and concrete as she tumbled across the roof. She finally came to a stop when her body clothes-lined on a pole. For a moment, she could only gasp like a fish out of water, then the moment passed. Groaning, she stood up gingerly. Her ankle was sore, but she could put her weight on it. She had rashes and scrapes and a few purple bruises, but nothing too serious. She limped over to the roof access door and wrenched it open despite the grunts and yells of the rusted pistons. Bellow her, a black abyss grabbed at her, daring her to descend into the blackness.

As she traveled down the stairs, she could see nothing. The blackness was so absolute she could not even see the faint glow of pink flesh when she held her hands in front of her. She descended each step by touch as she slid her back against the wall and carefully placed each foot in the right direction, slightly wincing when her injured ankle had to carry her weight. She made the journey noiselessly, only breaking the silence when she kicked an aluminum can on accident. The can fell down the stairs with a cacophony of singing metal, and she waited, too afraid to breathe, for the sound of a reanimated monster. In answer, a loud, curious groan issued from somewhere on the building's floor. Quickly but even more carefully, she descended the last two levels double speed.

Outside, the sky was smoky blue and the stars glimmered faintly. Straight ahead of her was an intersection, and the icy trail traveled parallel to her until it turned south at the intersection. Limping, she trotted as quickly as possible in the direction of the tracks.

The sun rose within the hour, and she could see the ice slowly turning into small puddles. She desperately began to run despite the pain in her ankle. She was relieved when she got out of the city and saw real footprints in the muddy ditch. Her pace slowed then as she could easily follow the man and small girl footprints through the woods and overgrown countryside. After an hour, she came to a small campsite with the fire pit still smoking. She had found their camp from the night before. A small stream gurgled close by, so the woman took a break to wash grit from her face and drink the clear water. She then submerged her swollen ankle into the cool stream, and laid on her back.

She awoke when the sun was exactly midway on its path across the sky. Carefully putting on her sneaker, she stood and found the trail again. As she traveled through the forest, she partially sated her growling stomach with ripe, juicy, and fragrant berries. A few hours had passed before she came to a clearing. Ahead, a cluster of small farm houses mostly crumbled to their foundations and overgrown with young trees stood like guardians on top a green hill. The tracks left in the soft forest floor disappeared in the tall grass, but she knew where they had gone from the childish laughter ringing over the wind.

She quickly walked up to the houses despite the uneven ground and long grass snagging her injured ankle. The first structure she came to was a large barn with holes in the roof. Inside came the giggles of the girl and the laughter of the man as they played hide and seek on the rusted farm equipment. The woman's heart leaped. She tried to sneak around to the barn's opening to watch the two from afar as she was suddenly uncertain, but her weak ankle tripped her and she fell against the tin wall of the barn. The noise echoed through the suddenly quiet air.

The woman tried to struggle to her feet and hide, but it was too late. Suddenly, the white haired wizard king sprung out in front of her. His crazed white eyes glared out at her, and he lifted his arms. With a flash of light, ice sprung from his fingertips and encased her body. The cold crept up her legs then her stomach, neck until it crawled over her eyes. Then, she knew no more.


	3. Chapter 3

"Simon, no!"

"Gunther! Go sit in the corner! Daddy's busy," she heard, briefly coming to in her own private world of excruciating cold.

"Simon! Stop! Please!" the woman, encased head to toe in mind numbing ice, heard the young girl say. "Stop!" Then she faded away again.

A long time had passed, the woman knew. For one thing, the ice had melted from her eyes. Yet even though the ice had fallen from her face, her vision was still blurry. She unconsciously attempted to rub her eyes, but her hand was cruelly stopped halfway on its journey to her face. The thickest part of the ice still encapsulated her torso, though her arms and legs were free, she realized. The cold was now more bearable, be that because her extremities were numb or because the amount of ice had lessened. Someone had wrapped her exposed flesh in blankets and set her up next to a fire.

"Oh, you're awake," someone said. Her blurred vision only registered a black form hovering above her silhouetted by the firelight. The person, realizing that she could not or would not reply, bent back down and returned to its work. The woman experienced an odd feeling of pressure as the person, wielding a hammer like a surgical blade, carefully chipped away ice.

"I'm truly sorry, you know. I – sometimes I lose myself… when I put on the Crown," the person said, and the woman suddenly remembered what had happened and who was talking to her. But the soft spoken, timid voice of the man had almost no similarities to the cackling, crazed voice of the Ice Wizard who had attacked her earlier. It was almost like two different people. If she had not seen the same man playing games with the girl child attack her, she would not have believed the kindly man and the crazy wizard were the same person. Curious but not frightened anymore, the woman longed to say something, but the cold numbed her lips.

"No, don't try to say anything. You'll be fine! But you have just a tiny bit of hypothermia. Just try to rest and regain your strength. Everything will be okay," he assured her. He resumed his careful chiseling. He broke off piece after piece of ice for a long time in silence. The ice was thin enough now if the woman had the strength she could move around and knock it off herself. But she felt too weak to do even that. Her vision had only returned a little, and now that most of the ice was off her, she felt the cold even stronger than before as the numbness receded.

Finally when her vision had returned, the man lifted her from the last of the ice and blushingly undressed her. He carefully wrapped her in blankets which she noticed had a distinct smell of mice and musty age and sat her next to the fire. He then laid out her clothes and made a boiling cup of water steeped with pine needles. Handing her the hot mug as he sat down facing her, he said,

"Here, it'll help keep you warm. Not the best tasting, but it'll help you recover." She took the mug with trembling fingers and attempted to return his smile with a weak one of her own. After several moments and a few sips of the hot tea, she finally managed to speak.

"Who… H-how?" her sore vocal chords managed.

"Oh, my manners! I'm Simon, and that sleeping darling over there is Marceline," he replied, sweeping his arm out towards a small bundle of blankets across the fire pit. She looked at the child, whose head looked impossibly tiny sticking out from the mass of blankets and smiled at the precious face. Then, she looked back at Simon who was looking at her expectantly.

"Very nice to meet you. I – I don't remember who..." she whispered. She hung her head in embarrassment, the first time she had felt that feeling in a decade, then glanced up at Simon's face.

"I understand completely. I – I –find it hard to… as well…" he mumbled, and she found she understood him also. "Well, we can't let you go nameless! Why don't we give you a name until you can remember who you are?" Simon asked brightly. She smiled in consent.

"You remind me of a girl I once knew a long time ago before … all this," – he waved his hand around, indicating the world –" Her name was Bonnibel."

"I like that name," the woman said.

"Bubblegum…" a small voice said. Simon and the newly christened Bonnibel looked at Marceline, whom they had thought was sleeping. "You look like bubblegum," she giggled and then rolled over and fell back asleep.

"Bonnibel Bubblegum," the woman whispered her name into her empty mug. For some reason, she felt in her gut the words perfectly aligned to her identity.

"Well, Bonnibel, most of the night has passed. We better get some sleep," Simon said, smiling at her one last time before laying down on his side and closing his eyes. Bonnibel realized that he had given his blankets to Marceline and herself leaving him uncovered and cushion-less. Bonnibel looked at him for a moment before laying back and quickly falling asleep.

When she woke up, Simon and Marceline were gone, but their things were still piled around the camp site. She quickly dressed in her clothes which had dried next to the fire during the night, and sat inside the barn, waiting until they returned. The barn was large and spacy, and sunlight spilled in through holes in the roofs and walls. Birds flitted above in the rafters singing pure and sweet. Even the cobwebs and dust over all the old and rusted farm equipment could not diminish the beauty of the moment.

She heard Simon and Marceline's voices drift over the bird song as they came in from the field. They came in from the barn opening, and Bonnibel brightened at their smiling faces.

"Marcy, why don't you tell Bonnibel what we found," Simon said with a smile. Marceline giggled.

"We found eggs," she said like eggs was the silliest thing she had ever heard of. "Then, I killed a bird with a rock." She proudly held up the lifeless form of the bird and waved it for Bonnibel to admire, its wings flapping around comically.

Bonnibel recoiled but tried to hide her shock with a poorly masking smile and ended up grimacing. However, Marceline did not notice and rushed to Bonnibel, dragging a ragged stuffed animal behind her, and then collapsed next to her, playing with the bird corpse by making the bird pretend fly. Simon got to work making eggs and more pine needle tea with a skillet over the fire singing, what he called, the Egg Song. Marceline giggled at this and tried to sing along, though Simon's lyrics were random and distinctly Dadaistic in nature. She squealed in delight when Bonnibel joined in as well.

"Again, again!" she yelled.

"Oh, no, Marcy. It's time for the bird to cook."

"Groooosss, Simon," she giggled, but handed the dead bird over anyway. They all sat quietly for a moment, until Marceline reached over and snagged a piece of Bonnibel's gummy hair.

"Oh," Bonnibel gasped, though it did not hurt. Marceline stuck the piece of gum into her mouth and chewed it!

"You _are_ bubblegum!" she giggled.

"Marcy!" Simon scolded, but his voice lacked true conviction. "Invading personal space and – um – eating people's hair is wrong." Marceline, however, reached over and snagged a second piece. In response to Simon's horrified face, she calmly replied,

"For Hambo." She then fed the piece of hair to her stuffed bear.

"Marceline!" Simon gasped, his olive skinned face drained of color as he looked horrified from Bonnibel to Marceline. Bonnibel felt it was time she intervened.

"I guess I do have the consistency of bubblegum," she said to Marcy.

"And you taste like it, too," Marceline giggled and looked up at her. Bonnibel, to Marceline's utter delight, pulled a piece of her own hair and chewed it like Marcy.

"You're right! I do!" Bonnibel said smiling at Marceline's delightfully shocked face. Then, they both turned and laughed as Simon reached and chewed a piece of Bonnibel's hair as well.

"Bonnie, you're funny. Why are you pink?" Marcy asked. Simon turned away, his face burning bright. He apparently could not handle the social injustice of Marceline's actions anymore.

"Why are you gray?" Bonnibel rebutted. Marcy furrowed her eyebrows and titled her head as if to say, why ask such a stupid question.

"Because I'm half demon, guh. My dad is Lord of Evil, ruler of the Nightosphere," she answered and mock growled. With her pointed ears and black hair, Bonnibel thought she looked adorably ferocious.

"Does that make you a princess?" Bonnibel asked. Marceline stuck out her tongue in disgust.

"Blugh, no! Princesses are dumb. How old are you?" she asked.

"How old do you think I am?" Bonnibel did not think she could explain to one as young as Marceline how one forgot their identity.

"Eighteen."

"You're right! I'm eighteen!" Bonnibel said.

"Wow, you're old," Marceline laughed. "I've always wanted an older sister." Bonnibel smiled, and wrapped an arm around Marcy. With her other hand, she picked up Hambo's arm and waved it around.

"Who is your friend?" she asked.

As Marceline and Bonnibel talked and played, Simon finished breakfast. He put a piece of bird and a few scrambled eggs on each plate. The tea he served to himself and Bonnibel but an old canned soda he had found he gave to Marceline. She enjoyed it even though it was flat and hot. After breakfast, they packed their things and left. Simon refused Bonnibel's offer to help carry the packs, as he was too much of a gentleman to burden her. She was slightly relieved; she was still weak from the night before. Instead, she contented herself with scavenging along the way with Marceline for supplies or food though they were not remotely successful. As they waded through the high, emerald green grass that whipped about them like ocean waves down the hillside towards the small village the farmstead lorded over, she enjoyed answering all the curious questions the little half-demon asked.

"Bonnie, how do birds fly?"

"Well, first they use their strong breast muscles to run and pump their wings in a swimming motion to get a lift into the air. A lift is when - "

"Boooooring. I think birds are magic."

"Magic is just an alternate explanation for science, Marceline."

"If you think so," Marceline replied condescendingly before jumping to a new topic.

The village was small and would have been picture perfect a decade ago. Now, the houses were broken and rotted like a forest after a fire. Death was everywhere even if no corpses littered the roads. Looking up, Bonnibel thought the fluffy white cumulus clouds and azure sky peppered with the playful flitting of birds bellied the horror of the place they traversed. Simon tried to lighten the mood by making the three ridiculous hats out of litter. This did seem to do the trick as they were caught completely unaware when they were ambushed.

Simon was the first to realize their negligent folly. His face drained of color, and his large, dark eyes contracted in fear. Bonnibel, reacting to his expression, spun around and saw them. Fanned out in front of them was a group of people, though people might not be the right word. A quick look around showed Bonnibel that they had closed in behind them and on the sides as well. The shortest of them was as tall as Simon, and the tallest was nearing seven feet. They all wore homespun, neutral colored robes. Armed with spears and swords, the warriors were dressed much more primitively then Bonnibel, Simon, and Marcy. Despite their size and primitive dress, they looked different than most humans. Horns sprouted from their skulls; a woman with glowing silvery hair had the large rack of a stag, an old man with a long chestnut beard carried the impossibly heavy antlers of a moose on his massive shoulders, and one tall, thin, young man had the deadly horns of a Spanish bull. Despite these impressive mutations, both Bonnibel's and Simon's eyes were drawn to the figure in the center.

The center figure was a tall, ethereal woman with tawny skin, amber eyes, and long, spiraling horns of a gazelle. She held a willowy staff and her robes hung just short of her ankles, revealing bare feet and an anklet of animal bones. She was the one to speak first.

"Who are you that invades our land and steals our food?" she asked. Her voice was loud and booming and deep though distinctly still feminine.

"Please, we mean you no harm. We're just weary travelers. We did not mean to trespass," Simon said. Though his face was pale, his voice did not waver.

"But you did. You have unlawfully eaten the flesh of our beloved neighbors without the express permission of Maddox, so you must stand judgment," the woman replied. Bonnibel spoke up,

"Are you Maddox, then?" The warriors around them laughed at Bonnibel's foolishness.

"Stop! It's not funny! Don't laugh at Bonnie!" Marceline shrieked at them. Surprisingly, the crowd stopped their mocking laugh and all eyes trained on Marcy. Bonnibel protectively put her arm around the girl.

"Maddox warned of your arrival, Demon Spawn. Poaching brings the punishment of death, but your presence, oh Evil One, has tipped the scale of things," the woman boomed, pointing her staff at Marceline. "Follow me."

With that, she spun around sending her robes flaying in her wake. The warriors moved to follow but in a way that silently put their weapons and themselves between the trio and any possible escape. Thus cornered, they were herded along like cattle. Simon bent to pick up Marcy and carried her in his arms. His wide eyes caught Bonnibel's, and she agreed with the words held in their depths. They both were thinking, whatever their mysterious captors had planned for Marceline… Maybe death would have been better.


	4. Chapter 4

The clouds deceptively light and cottony just minutes before had suddenly thickened and darkened over the party's heads. The birds, which had been whistling songs high in the sky before now darted about low to the ground as they tried to find shelter. Their flight paths were desperate and sporadic, and their frenzy had its effect on the humans walking bellow. Their pace quickened as they hurried across the field to the grouping of trees where they would have protection from the black rain.

The people, most of them horned and dressed in robes and armed with primitive weapons, began to trot as the clouds thickened and lightning slashed across the sky. In the middle of the group a silvery haired man whose olive colored skin was faintly tinted blue ran with a small black haired girl clinging to his neck. He desperately glanced at the sky every few steps and tried to protectively shield the girl from the dangerous clouds. Beside him ran a pink haired, pink skinned young woman. Next to their giant escorts and the man and child, her odd coloring was not unnatural at all. It was common since the beginning of the war for oddities to become the norm. The two were having to sprint to keep up with the long legs of their captors. The woman was also glancing at the sky with worry, though she had survived exposure to the black rain several times before. She had been in another form then, however, and she worried her barely two day old body was not as resilient as her previous one. But she also glanced nervously at their escorts, as they had begun to chant a thick, deep song in reverence to the sky.

Their song had no words, but the meaning was clear. They respected the black rain for its destructive properties even as they feared it. Their voices, even the women's, dropped in their throats and the noises coming from their mouths was like a richly flavored growl. The song rose in crescendo and collapsed, accenting here and there in response to thunder and lightning battling across the sky. Finally, the horned people and their prisoners broke through the edge of the forest.

They traveled only fifty feet inside before the giants quickly disassembled their organized formation and got to work setting camp before the rain hit. They all pulled the packs off their backs which held bundles of cloth and other necessary items as well as large planks that seamed small on their tall backs. The ones carrying planks began making a raised platform by shallowly planting posts into the soft fleshy forest floor and tightening cross pieces to them through previously drilled holes with string. On top of this frame they laid out square sections of wood which they topped with animal skins. In the trees above, they hung sections of a specialized leather covering with small squares of copper sheets sewn on one side between branches. The leather provided a covering over the platform and hung vertically a few feet on either side as added protection against windblown rain. A third group quickly dug a foot by foot ditch around the perimeter of their platform in hopes that if the flooding rose too high it would not wash away their only protection. The assembly of the camp took a little over ten minutes to create as each member of the party executed their tasks expertly.

The last of the group got under the protective canvas only minutes before the rain hit. The black rain had made its first appearance after the beginning shots of the war. The rain completely caught the world off guard as dense, tar-like black radioactive water fell on unprepared victims. Initially the only effect was the stains. The black rain dyed anything it touched with black for days, even human skin and hair. Then, after the rain had been falling for several minutes, the acid began to eat away at almost anything it touched. Even those who had found shelter from the rain were effected as the rain sent off invisible waves of radiation through the air that penetrated walls and skin. Its touch painfully twisted the anatomy of biological things, and what it did not kill it mutated.

As the years went by, the rain became less toxic and destructive. The radiation had done the most of its damage, and only stagnant sporadically placed pools of radiation or toxic waste had the violently destructive properties of the original pandemic of environmental poison. The rain that fell now was not black as its name implied, but a smoky grey. And the acidic properties were not as potent. So as Simon, Marceline, Bonnibel, and their horned escort sat under the hastily built protective covering, they only worried about staying away from the stinging water.

As the rain fell, the giants passed around a canteen of water to everyone including their prisoners as well as homemade jerky. Their melodic praise of the rain ceased after half an hour, then their female leader began to tell a story about a young orphaned hero who spent his life searching for the nomadic warrior tribes of his father's people. This story was apparently a favorite among the crowd as at certain parts several people began to recite the words as the woman told them. Despite this, they still gasped and awed at the hero's many epic conquests as if hearing it for the first time. When the woman finished, they all sat silently. Bonnibel had to agree, the woman was a talented orator.

"That was a cool story," Marceline whispered. She twisted around in her seat in Simon's lap to say to him, "I want to be an adventurer."

"We're adventuring right now, Marcy," he replied.

"But I don't like this adventure," she whispered and hugged Hambo to her chest. Bonnibel looked at Simon. She wondered why he did not pull out the crown and use it. Such a powerful weapon could surely take care of these people long enough for them to escape. She looked at their leader with her long spiraling horns towering imposingly above her. Well, maybe these people could hold their own against the power of the crown. But if Bonnibel had that type of power she would at least try to help them escape. Wasn't Simon scared for Marcy?

"Who are you?" the leader suddenly said to her prisoners. Bonnibel looked at her incredulously. How rude! When Simon realized Bonnibel was refusing to answer the question, he spoke for her.

"I'm Simon. Bonnibel. You already seem to know Marceline. Can I ask yours in return?" His hand indicated whom he was naming. The woman looked from him to Bonnibel before resting on Marcy.

"What a pretty name. So deceptively sweet," she said.

"Simon asked your name," Bonnibel said harshly. She did not tolerate rudeness no matter who perpetrated it. The woman's amber eyes rolled and settled on her.

"Och, confidant of Maddox, the all-Knowing and all Powerful."

Once the rain settled, the camp was just as quickly disassembled as it was made, and Och led them deeper and deeper into the forest. They came to a point where the hills were getting steeper and the trees were thinning. After the party climbed up a particularly large hill and breached the top, they looked out upon a huge camp of the giant people. From this high, the huge people looked regular sized, Bonnibel noticed.

As they descended along the opposite side of the hill, Bonnibel saw this was not the case. The people grew larger and larger as they approached, and oddly the children, though large, sprouted no horns. Marcy, influenced by the attention of the other children, squirmed from Simon's arms and walked confidently in front of Simon and Bonnibel. Och led them to a large animal skin tent in the center of the camp, and motioned for the escort to wait outside while she entered.

Several moments passed, and Bonnibel took the moment to look around at her captors. Most of the people acted indifferent to the odd visitors, but a large group had amassed around them. Not all the people wore robes; most were even more poorly dressed in woolen tunics and leggings stained and worn with use. The children ran about freely and unencumbered with responsibility. While they lived in tents, there was still well tended fields of crops terraced along the hillsides. The people whom Bonnibel saw were not as vicious as she had originally thought them to be.

Eventually, Och emerged from the tent looking displeased but still imposing. She motioned for two large warriors to usher Bonnibel, Simon and Marceline inside the tent. Och stood to the side as they filed in before her.

Inside was dimly lit. In the center of the room a large pool of bubbling green liquid cast a dim glow on a figure seated on an animal horn throne. The figure was flanked by two others though Bonnibel could not clearly distinguish much of any of the three. The center figure grunted and motioned, and one of the two standing walked around and lit torches. The throne on which the central figure, presumably Maddox, sat was indeed made of bound animal horns with leather and wool padding thrown over for comfort. Maddox was large, larger than any of the giants Bonnibel had seen so far, and the horns sprouting from his head were a ram's. He wore a large robe with a ruby and gold chain across his chest and rested heavily on a large cedar staff as he leaned forward to address the party presented before him. His eyes reflected green from the pool bubbling before him, and most of his features were cast in shadow from his hood.

"Come forth," he whispered, motioning with his free hand for the trio to step in the light of the torches. The three obliged hypnotically. Maddox's voice was silky and smooth and resonant though he spoke quietly, but an edge of venom and coldness slipped through. Bonnibel suddenly felt as though she could not speak.

"These are the trespassers, my Lord, and with them is the child of which I spoke," Och said from behind them. Her tone was one of yearning.

"Trespassers… Yes, trespassers. That is a very serious crime. Though… at this moment, we will let it pass. These… trespassers, they must be very brave to have survived as they have. There were just the three?" Maddox whispered. No one objected to his ruling, and Och eagerly jumped to reply to her master's question.

"You are very wise. Yes, my Lord. Just the three."

"Brave, or powerful… Cunning, most definitely. They must be, with the demon spawn and the wizard." Maddox ended his statement with a wheezing fit. Bonnibel was shocked at this revelation. How had the man sensed so quickly Simon's hidden power?

"I have no knowledge of whom you might be, woman, though with such significant friends I trust you must have some hidden secrets of your own," Maddox continued. His direction of interest changed back towards Och. "Take them to their lodgings, Och, and await my summons. Your regiment will take the rest of the day off." Maddox had dismissed them anticlimactically with barely a mention of his designs on Marcy.

When they reemerged in the sunlight, they were painfully blinded. Even though the torches had been lit inside, their light had not been very powerful. Och only paused momentarily before leading the trio and the two guards over to a tent across camp. Bonnibel and Simon struggled to keep up, and Marcy held on to Bonnibel's hand for support as she hopped desperately to match their stride.

Och brushed inside the tent, and the two guards melted away after a curt order from Och to go inform their comrades of their reward. She tossed her willow staff aside, and offered for them to help themselves to the stew pot in the center of the room. The ease in which she moved about the room indicated she resided here.

"Maddox has indicated his wish that you will stay with me until you are adequately assimilated into our way of life. Please, make yourself comfortable and eat." Simon, Marceline, and Bonnibel quickly obliged as the jerky of earlier had not satisfied their hunger. Before they had eaten much, the tent opening was brushed open again, and a young man walked in. His features were similar to Och's though his horns were like those of an antelope. He came up to the cooking pot and grabbed some stew, though he stood to the side of the three seated around eating. When Och turned and saw him, she was not pleased to see her son.

"What are you doing here?! The Lord surely did not dismiss you of your duties! Foolish boy, you have no idea what your impudence will cause!"

"Relax, mother. He sent me to give you orders to see him and for me to spend my time with the visitors. Do you so easily think me that foolish?"

"Sometimes, I do not know," she solemnly replied, grabbing her staff. She turned to look once over her shoulder, and Bonnibel caught her slight smile and hungry gaze on Marceline before she disappeared through the tent flap. She then looked to Och's son and saw that his gaze was also on little Marceline who was so innocently unaware of the attention she was receiving. Whatever their captors had said of them being visitors, she knew that they still had aims on Marceline.


End file.
